


by any other name

by TigerMoon



Series: family is a four-letter word [7]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, Love Confessions, M/M, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-10 22:27:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10448910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TigerMoon/pseuds/TigerMoon
Summary: He's had multiple names, sometimes no name at all. There are times he doesn't even feel human. Ozpin is just the name he's held the longest. Sometimes it feels like names have no meaning.Qrow and Ozpin discuss names, identity, and what it takes to truly feel real.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This came about from multiple discussions online regarding Ozpin's true identity and whether Ozpin was actually his name- and this happened. It also has one of the happiest endings I've done in a while.
> 
> You're welcome.

“… _and for that, his enemies call him Great, and Terrible. Those who he protects call him Great and Powerful. He has many names – Wizard, Father Time, the First-Born. But the ones who know him best, the four Seasons who brought him back out into this world, know him, simply, as…._ ” Qrow let the antique book he’d been reading aloud from fall into his lap. “Oz? This is a joke, right?”

A light chuckle escaped the older man as he turned around. “I’m afraid not,” he said with amusement, his bare forearms dripping soap suds from the kitchen sink. It was a lazy sort of evening, what the other teachers tended to teasingly call their ‘date nights’ - a simple home-cooked meal shared at Ozpin’s quarters, then quiet time together as they unwound from the stresses of their lives. Right now, Qrow was sprawled out over the overstuffed couch reading an old book from Ozpin’s private library as the other washed the dishes left over from dinner. “That particular book predates the kingdoms,” he continued as he went back to his cleaning. He was only in his turtleneck and slacks, sleeves rolled up and soaked at the edges. The clink of dishes and swish of sudsy water punctuated his words. “All of the ones that mention the Wizard’s name – and there are only three that do – predate modern history.”

Qrow set the book aside on the coffee table. “So...” he said, propping his head up against the arm of the couch so he could watch Ozpin at work. “how did you – I mean.” He hesitated. “Did you name yourself Ozpin, or were you named that..?”

There was a pause. “… that’s... a bit of a complicated question,” he said hesitantly.

“Oz?” Qrow leaned forward, hawk-sharp eyes narrowed. “What _is_ your name?”

Ozpin drew in a deep breath. Qrow expected him to tense up and tell him he wasn’t ready to broach the subject, but instead the man sagged against the kitchen sink with an air of defeat. He carefully laid the wine glass he’d been washing aside before looking over his shoulder. A pained half-smile twisted his lips. “To be honest, Qrow? I… I don’t think I actually have one,” he said.

“ _Everyone_ has a name, Oz.” Qrow sat up, hands laced together over his knees. “Your parents-”

He shrugged at that. Turning back around to face Qrow, Ozpin leaned up against the sink and crossed his still-wet arms over his chest – a defensive posture. His narrow amber eyes flicked over the younger man, then away again. “My mother called me Tip,” he began after a moment’s hesitation. “I remember that, barely. She was the only one to ever call me that, and only when we were alone. I was very young when she died. The name Tip died with her.”

Qrow narrowed his brow, but didn’t interrupt. It was never a good idea to interrupt Ozpin when he spoke, especially on the things he kept tightly wound and shoved deep within; there was no guarantee that he’d get the courage to speak of it again. “Names....” He chewed on his lower lip. There was a horribly distant cast to his eyes now, like staring back in time. “Names are a gift one gives a person, Qrow, and I wasn’t a person, back then. I was a thing. An ‘it.’” He rubbed the side of his chest where the jagged crack of scars wrapped around from his back. “My father made that fact very clear to me very early on.”

Ozpin shifted, crossing his arms just a bit tighter across his chest, and ducked his head down lower. “No one wants to give name to the child they’ve paid Lien to have ‘warm their bed’.”

The lights in his eyes had gone dim, but he wasn’t running; and even though it always made his chest ache to hear Ozpin speak of his demons Qrow felt quiet pride rise warm in his chest. He was _talking_ about it, actually standing up instead of turning and running away. “Take a deep breath, Oz.” He leaned forward. “Are you okay to go on? If you want to stop-”

He shook his head, platinum hair falling into his face. “I’m all right, Qrow. That part of the story is done.”

“Okay. Then... how’d you end up as Ozpin?”

The barest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of Ozpin’s lips as he raised an arm and tapped the back of his head. “Wait – you – your predecessor? Old King Ozymandias?” Qrow asked, an eyebrow raised.

“That’s right.” Uncrossing his arms, he padded over and sat down on the arm of the couch next to Qrow. “When my father – when I finally… well.” A look of distress crossed his face. “When I escaped, let’s just say that. I had to have a name of some sort, didn’t I?” He sighed a soft laugh, devoid of humor. “I didn’t want one. Didn’t think I deserved one, to be completely honest. _People_ had names, not... whatever I was.” Qrow slipped out a hand and took one of Ozpin’s, squeezing the slender fingers gently. “It took some convincing on Ozymandias’s part for me to accept, but in the end… the gifts, the Wizard’s powers, those didn’t matter so much to me. I wanted to _belong_. To feel human. And the stories I’d been told, of this magic man who gave and protected and was loved – I wanted _that_. To give, so no one had to be alone. To protect, so no one had to suffer the way I had. To be _loved_. So the king named me Ozpin, because I wanted to be everything that he had been.”

Qrow’s free hand found the top of Ozpin’s knee, his thumb rubbing comforting circles along the side. “You’ve done all those things,” he said softly.

“I’ve been imitating a ghost,” he replied with a sad, small smile. “Reality is hardly so simple, Qrow, and you know that as well as I do. I can only do so much. I can give – but only in bits and pieces, as I must stay here and guard the gift of the gods. I can protect – by teaching the young to protect themselves, and keeping Salem’s hounds at bay. Smaller demons I must leave to humanity and hope I have taught them enough. But I’m an impostor, not the Ozpin of legend. I’m just me... whoever that is.”

“You forgot one thing,” the younger man said, rising to his feet to stand in front of the other.

Ozpin watched him rise. His brow furrowed in confusion as he looked up at him. “And what’s that?”

Qrow cupped the side of Ozpin’s jaw in his hand; he unconsciously leaned into the touch. “You’re _loved_ , Oz,” he breathed.

His lips parted, sucking in a startled breath, his honeyed eyes wide. The apples of Qrow’s cheeks, the tips of his ears and the length of his throat, were flushed scarlet with the admission. Still, he stood there, smiling that small lopsided smile, crimson eyes soft as he looked down at him. “You’re loved, Oz,” he repeated. “Not because of some name you took on way back when, or some destiny you hold, but because of who _you_ are. You’re not a _thing_ , not Tip or Ozpin – you’re more. And if it means anything, I think you’re pretty special.”

Ozpin let a little laugh escape him, the beginnings of a smile crossing his lips. “I guess the question is now is,” Qrow continued, “who do you want to be? What name do you want to have?”

“Well…” A light pink stained Ozpin’s fair cheeks. “There is a certain someone. Someone I care very deeply for, who has this obnoxious little nickname for me that I’ve grown quite fond of.” He took hold of Qrow’s hand and pressed a kiss above the pulse point of his wrist before holding the hand right above his heart. “Tell me my name, Qrow?”

“Oz,” he whispered, leaning forward. Their lips met, barely brushing against each other, soft little kisses punctuated by Qrow’s low voice. “Oz, Oz, Oz, you have a name, you are _real_.”

Ozpin laughed again, a soft noise filled with a happiness that warmed Qrow’s heart. Stealing a last kiss, he pulled him close to lay his forehead against the other’s. “Thank you, Qrow,” he whispered.

He knelt and wrapped his arms around Ozpin’s slim waist, content to hold him against his chest. “For what?” he asked.

“For listening to me.” Ozpin’s eyes, gateways to his ancient soul, were bright and alive in a way they hadn’t been in ages. “For giving me a name I can wear with pride. Thank you, Qrow, for loving me.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me or ask me questions at [my tumblr!](tigerstripedmoon.tumblr.com)
> 
> Leave a comment and let me know what you thought, even if you hated it!


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